But Sylvester rumbled, “What the fuck?”

I ignored all this and carried on.

“No, worse than a whore because he says a stripper is a tease and at least a whore is honest about it. And I wish I could say that was the reason why I didn’t go. But it isn’t. At least not the only one. It was because I made myself so distant from all of you, and I didn’t know how to come back. And then that happened with dad. Also stuff was weird with Axl because I danced that dance for him and he wanted to talk it out and he scares me so badly, even though I want him even worse, I couldn’t go there. And then I got home to my house and Brett was there. And he got in my face about putting Axl off and fasting …”

“Fasting?” Ryn asked quietly.

I heard her.

But I kept going because I had to get it all out.

And it was now or never. Because further delays might mean I couldn’t sort the damage.

Since I decided it was now, I had to get it all out now.

“Then Brett took me out to dinner, and we made friends and then the next day Axl shows and he gets in my face …”

“What?” Lottie demanded.

I also heard that, but I kept on my bent.

“And he was right in what he said, but he wasn’t nice in how he said it. Then I got the phone call where the guy threatened to tie me up and whip me.”

“What?”

That came from all three of them.

I still persevered with what I had to tell them, but that time, it was because I’d be answering them.

“So I made the fateful decision to call Brett because it wasn’t that bad, just an obscene phone call. But, you know, shit happens.”

“Shit does happen,” Pepper muttered.

I looked to Ryn. “So that’s why Brett is picking me up at night. And he’s spending the night with me, sleeping on my couch, because he doesn’t want to take any chances. Which is good. But also bad, seeing as he was there this morning with me, having coffee on my deck, but he’d gone inside to figure out breakfast when Axl showed to apologize for getting in my face and then we started kissing.”

“Ohmigod,” Ryn breathed.

“Right on,” Pepper said.

“Then Brett broke it up because my caller is more of a stalker and he’d opened my mail and found the guy had sent me some hard-core BDSM stuff with some threats and …and …uh …”

I trailed off because none of them were looking at me anymore.

They were all looking beyond me.

I’d know why even before I turned because Sylvester greeted, “Yo, Ian.”

And Dorian, who, after I turned, I saw was standing behind me, replied, “Yo, Sly.”

But he did this scowling at me.

Another full confession: in the beginning, I had serious problems with Dorian mostly because he was utterly gorgeous. The most beautiful Black man I’d ever seen. And I know some might have an issue that I included the modifier of “Black” in that, but before I saw Axl, he was just the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Then I saw Axl.

So Dorian’s title had to change, slightly.

And because he was so handsome, I was shy and awkward around him.

This, even if he was incredibly nice and he could be funny when he wasn’t being serious (which was a lot, but he ran a strip club with his uncle, it wasn’t just staff who could get out of hand, it was patrons, so serious was a good quality to have).

But he sensed I was shy, so he put in the work to make himself approachable to me, make me understand he wasn’t just my boss, he was a friend and he cared about me, and now I liked him a whole lot.

It was on this thought I realized everyone around me put in a lot of work.

And me?

Well …

Hell.

“Hey, Ian,” I greeted.

“You got a stalker?” Ian did not greet back.

“Dude,” Sylvester said, and Ian and I looked to him. “Cisco showed me the pics this asshole sent. Now, I could do me a sweet piece in some handcuffs or creative use of silk scarves, but this shit was extreme.”

Ian stared hard at Sylvester.

Then he dropped his head and looked at his shoes.

In order to give Ian some time, I turned to Sylvester and mouthed, “Sly?”

He shrugged.

I turned back to Ian who was still contemplating his shoes.

He then put his hand on the back of his neck, rubbed it up over his hair and then dropped it to his side, saying, “My mother told me, do not get involved in the club. Those girls will be the death of you.” He lifted his head and speared me with his eyes. “She was right.”

“I’m not stalking me,” I pointed out.

“I know you’re not,” he clipped. “But you show with a bodyguard and don’t come direct to me when you got a problem?”

Hmm.

He had a point.

“You’ve kinda had your fair share of problems,” I said.

It was lame, but it wasn’t untrue.

“That’s life, Hatz. You have problems. You deal. You move on. You don’t know you got a problem, you can’t deal, and that problem becomes a bigger problem.”

Before I could agree to his wisdom, and apologize for messing up, Dorian looked to Sylvester.

“You on her all day?” he asked.

“Until Cisco pulls me, and he did not communicate he intended to pull me, so maybe,” Sylvester answered.

“You do not go into the dancers’ dressing room. Outside only. I’ll brief security. If you’re still here tonight, when Hattie is onstage, I want all eyes on the crowd. I’ll give you, or whoever relieves you, a headset so you can communicate with the team. But before, I’ll introduce the team to you so they know you’re point on Hattie. You down?”

“I’m down,” Sylvester replied.

Ian looked to me. “Right now it’s a call and pictures?”

I nodded.

“To your cell phone and sent to your house?” he went on.

I nodded again.

Dorian’s visible unhappiness got visibly unhappier.

“And Cisco knows this?” he pressed.

More nodding.

“What about Pantera?”

“Uh, he knows it too.”

“I’ll call them,” he muttered, beginning to move away.

“Wait!” I cried.

He turned back to me.

“Axl and Hawk and all of them aren’t officially on this, hence Sylvester,” I shared, throwing a hand Sylvester’s way.